Let it All In
by foxxayforever
Summary: A series of one shots based on headcanons about Cordelia posted by fionajudelangon2573 on tumblr
1. Chapter 1

_When Cordelia knew that Hank had cheated on her, but didn't know he was a witch hunter, I wonder if she blamed herself. Like maybe she thought it had something to do with her not being able to have a baby, or maybe that she just wasn't good enough for him._

She came across them when she was cleaning one day.

Every spring, she re-organized her and her husband's closets and dressers so that their warm weather clothing came to the forefront, and this year was no different. Though Hank had been away on business more than usual lately, he promised it would be over soon and he'd be back by her side where he belonged. As she pulled out sweaters and pullovers, re-folding them and setting them aside, she saw something red peeking out from between some shirts. She pulled the mysterious fabric out and held it up.

Bright red crotchless lace panties.

Not something she would wear in a million years. Cordelia's heart dropped and she felt sick to her stomach. She bit her lip and fought fiercely to hold back tears, tucking the lingerie back between the shirts and putting the rest of them back where they'd been before, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't lose Hank.

Maybe if she just pretended it didn't happen she would forget, everything could stay normal.

That night, as she flicked off the downstairs lights and retreated to her room, brushed her teeth, changed into her pajamas and slipped into her cold king size bed alone, she didn't cry. No, she didn't cry. Not yet. Just thought. She thought about everything. The night she'd met Hank, the following Friday when she'd found him in the same spot at the bar and he'd asked her on a date. The first night they'd made love, moving in together, the night he proposed. Their wedding and been the greatest night of her life; their honeymoon ten days of pure bliss spent traveling Europe. Their fifth anniversary was coming up. She'd already planned a little weekend getaway. Five years of someone loving her, being in love with her. She asked herself how she could possibly have believed it was real. Someone being in love with her? Wanting to spend their life with her? She should have known. God, she should have known.

Part of her wanted to cry, to be angry and hate Hank and wonder how he could have do something so awful to her. But she just couldn't. She deserved it after all, didn't she? She was worthless, pathetic. She always had been and she always would be; nobody could love her, not even her own mother. Hell, she couldn't even do the one thing women were _made _to do. He'd always said it was fine, said they could adopt or not have children at all, if thats what she wanted, but she knew somewhere deep down it wasn't ok. Of course it wasn't ok.

Burrowing deeper under the covers on her side of the bed, she wondered briefly how long it had been going on. How long it had taken him into their marriage to realize just how much he'd fucked up. She didn't wonder a thing about the woman. What she looked like or how they met. She didn't wonder anything about her because all she needed to know was that she was better than her.


	2. Chapter 2

_What if it's Cordelia's fault she can't have a baby? Like what if when she was younger she attempted suicide and she took something that they weren't able to get out of her system fast enough before it started affected a couple of her organs, and her ovaries were affected? _

The white tile bathroom was cold all around Cordelia as she got ready, staring herself down in the mirror. Fiona was right. Every insult, every jab over the last fifteen years at her flat hair or her wide face. She was right. She had always been right.

Today, her mother had been at Miss Robichaux's for less than twelve hours and already Cordelia felt like absolute shit.

"Any young men in your life, Delia?"

"Maybe if you lost that baby fat boys would look twice at you."

"Do you _need _all that food, dear?"

"Would it kill you to tan a little, Delia? You look like a damn ghost."

"You shouldn't wear your hair like that, it does nothing for your face."

"Honey, why don't you try a little harder? It's not like you're a natural beauty."

"Cordelia you're the daughter of the Supreme. Why are you so god damn useless?"

The sound of the running bathtub drowned out her sobs as she a dusted the foundation over her face. She rarely wore more than blush and mascara, but tonight she was going all out. She was going to be beautiful when they found her. Fiona would finally have a beautiful daughter like she'd always wanted. Maybe her mother would finally be proud.

Cordelia had never been impulsive, never made rash decisions in the heat of the moment. She thought everything through, weighed the pros and cons, thought about what would be best for the people around her. And though this decision had been made faster than any other in her life, she still did all that. She'd thought everything through, weighed each pro and con, but most of all she thought about how it would effect the people in her life.

And she couldn't think about anybody who it would hurt. It wasn't like she had any friends at the academy. Fiona would probably be relieved, and Myrtle would get over it with a few swipes of her credit card. They would all be better off without her. And she would be better off without her life.

She took deep breaths to stop her crying, dabbed her puffy eyes and continued her makeup, making sure her eyeliner was precise and perfect, not too subtle but not too dark. Just like Fiona did it. She swiped on mascara and finished with a subtle magenta lipstick that Fiona had given her on her last visit, along with some snide that she didn't care to recall.

It had taken the longest to decide how to do it. The easiest way would have been an overdose on pills or booze, but that would mean stealing Fiona's, and she didn't want to do that. She'd be angry. Cutting would be messier, but if she did it in the bath tub they'd just have to remove her body and drain the tub. Good as new.

She shut the water off when the tub was full and stepped in, still wearing pair of black leggings and a loose black shirt. She didn't want to be found naked, that would be humiliating and undoubtedly uncomfortable for whoever had the unfortunate duty of doing so. She looked at the razor, sitting plainly, unthreateningly on the tile counter beside her; picked it up.

It was going to hurt, she knew that much. But nothing could possibly hurt more than the last fifteen years. And when this hurt was over, it would be the last. Nothing would ever hurt again.

And that was thought enough to get her to drag the razor from wrist to elbow on both arms.

—

She woke up to the sound of beeping and a room empty save for Myrtle, who sat beside her bed. She was hooked up to machines she had no idea the purpose of, tubes running in and out of her body. The doctors explained as gently as the could that she had died and her internal organs had nearly shut down. They had fixed everything essential, her heart and her lungs, but they were unable to save her ovaries. She wouldn't be able to have children.

At the time she couldn't have cared less. Why would she want to think about the future, about having children, when she'd just attempted to take her own life.

She had no idea that fifteen years later it would break her heart.


End file.
